


Nine

by anonymouslyme8



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/F, In which Scully's sexual orientation is assumed (incorrectly?), Lesbian Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut, Vaginal Fingering, well female/female sex anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-06-23 03:54:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15597735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anonymouslyme8/pseuds/anonymouslyme8
Summary: Scully invites a female friend over for drinks, she gets more than she bargained for. (Dana Scully is seduced by a woman. What more could you ask for? No X-File needed, this is consensual. This has no plot, no purpose. First-person POV with no character development because I am trash.)





	Nine

Dana Katherine Scully was the picture of feminine grace, even in the nondescript, shoulder-padded pantsuit. Her red bob skimmed her chin and glistened with every move of her head, reminding every smitten observer of soft silk. Today, her lips were a berry pink, or, to a more lustful interpretation, the color they might be if bitten in passion. Her tailored jacket cinched in at her waist before flaring out again, promising soft curves beneath.

I tried, unsuccessfully, to suppress a groan. If only I was tempted by simply Dana Scully’s physical attributes. They were torture enough after two years alongside her, especially on those occasions that she wore a shorter pencil skirt or a clingy blouse. I even caught a glimpse of a lacy bra cup once, leaving me feeling dizzy. Scully had noticed, then, but only my pallor and unsteady legs. She had grasped me by the arms and steered me to a chair, recommending deep breaths and putting my head between my legs.

No, the heart of it was I was in love with Dana Scully. We had become instant best friends, both no-nonsense female scientists fighting for respect in the FBI. From my first assignment working peripherally as an X-Files investigator, I had taken an instant liking to Scully. Her quick tongue, fierce remarks, and unwillingness to back down in the face of controversy ensconced her in my heart as a shining star. The first time I watched her autopsy a victim, her hair pulled back into a low ponytail, her tiny form swallowed by too-big green scrubs, I knew resistance was hopeless.

The problem, though, was a whopper: Agent Scully liked men. Well, I hadn’t asked her to clarify, but her attraction to men was apparent in her day-to-day interactions. And, as we had become closer friends, in her drunken confessions. Our incompatibility in that respect left me in a humiliating and awkward position, hoping every day she wouldn’t notice my eyes staring too long at her plush lips, or how I couldn’t resist watching her walk away.

“So tell me, do you date men or women?” Scully’s deep and tipsy timbre startled me back to reality.

Fuck. Could she read minds, too? I looked down at the tequila shot in front of me and took it, hoping it could instill me with courage. “Where is this coming from?” I asked, noting her shot glass was also empty. Her pale cheeks had flushed pink from the vasodilatory effects of the alcohol.

“I’ve told you about some of my worst dates, my bad relationships. You haven’t told me any of yours.” She smirked, and my heart stuttered. “Look, no judgment either way.”

I swallowed, and my saliva felt thick in my throat. There were only two possible ways to answer this question: the truth or a bold-face, less-risky lie. “Well, both,” I admitted. Was this tequila or truth serum? “Depends on the person.”

One of her eyebrows raised, but she hid her surprise well. “That’s not what I was expecting.”

I crossed my legs, pressing them together as if trying to strangle my lust. Alcohol always made me horny, and I could think of no more dangerous combination than alcohol and my position maybe a foot and a half from Dana Scully.

“Oh?” I cast my eyes down, studying the countertop of her bar. I didn’t know whether to be grateful we had met at her apartment or angry that the privacy had granted her such boldness. “What did you expect?”

I could feel her eyes on me, even as I refused to make eye contact. She placed her hand on mine, and the contact made my mouth go dry.

“I don’t know. I guess I assumed you were secretive about it because you were a lesbian.” Her soft fingers rested on my hand, and I hoped she couldn’t tell how sweaty my palms had become. “Call me naïve, but I never even considered the idea that it might be both.”

My hand burned where hers rested, and I had to fight the urge to take her hand. Could she really not see? Had we really come so far, to this confession, without her figuring out my desperate attraction to her?

“No, I understand, it’s not something people think of…” I couldn’t meet her stark blue eyes, but I could feel them on me.

“You know,” she said, sitting back on her stool, “I ‘experimented’ in college.” Her hand fell away from mine, and I glanced up to see her cheeks flushing a charming rose. She placed a finger in the empty shot glass and spun it around. “Don’t get me wrong. I know it’s not the same thing.”

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t answer. My heartbeat pounded in my ears in time to the rhythmic scraping of the shot glass on the counter. The bottle of tequila, half empty, sat a silent witness to its own creation. There was no way Scully would be confessing such a thing without alcohol in her system.

“I don’t know what put the idea in my head,” she admitted with a chuckle, “but I went to college thinking that kissing a girl was something every girl did. The idea nagged me my whole first semester, but I was too chicken to go through with it, or at least never had the right opportunity.”

The idea was nagging at me as she spoke. The image of Dana Scully kissing another girl was almost too much for me to handle, and I regretted my choice of university in an instant.

“It happened over spring break.” She paused, covering her face with her hand. “I’m a walking cliché, I know.”

“You don’t have to tell me about…” I said, surprised I could find my voice to speak.

“I was at this big party,” she continued, as if I hadn’t spoken. “I was embarrassingly drunk on some vodka drink the other girls were drinking. There was this gorgeous, popular, insecure blond girl I was following around. She was trying to get the attention of some football player or something, but he seemed oblivious.”

The image of nineteen-year-old Scully, drunk and silly, brought an unbidden smile to my face. “I think I see where this is going.”

She shrugged a shoulder. “She decided she would kiss a girl to capture his attention, but none of her friends were interested. I just thought, well, it’s now or never.”

She licked her lips, perhaps not aware of the torture that could inflict given the circumstance. “We kissed, in full view of the party, and that girl certainly succeeded in getting attention. Thing is, it was a horrific kiss. Too much tongue, way too wet. I hope she didn’t kiss him that way.” She laughed, ashamed. “Of course, I should have been proud of myself for accomplishing my college girl goal. But I wasn’t. I was left wondering if it might have been different if I had kissed a girl that actually liked girls.”

If that’s what she wanted, I knew where she could find not only a girl who liked girls, but a girl who was head-over-heels for her. A kiss from me would be a kiss she would never forget.

“So there was another girl,” Scully said. Genuine surprise passed my face, and she smiled wryly. “I know. I will never forget her face. A drop-dead beauty, she was, and a lesbian to boot. I flirted shamelessly at a club until she kissed me. To be honest, I was scared how much I liked it, and after that kiss, I ran.”

The darkness and thumping beat of late 70s club music seemed to echo in the apartment. Low red lights and flashes of skin and gasps of breath tore through the background. Dana Scully, pressed against the wall in the tiny corridor near the bathroom. Dana Scully breaking the kiss and darting through the crowd to sit, heart pounding, in her car.

“I never thought about it since then,” she said. “Except…”

Her sultry voice trailed off, and I prompted her before I thought about it. “Except?”

Her face was crimson now, and I dropped my eyes to the counter again, realizing what she had been about to say. Dana Katherine Scully thought about that kiss sometimes when she masturbated.

Fuck. There was definitely a wet spot on the stool beneath me. No doubt about it. I shifted my weight, trying to ignore the shock that went through me as the movement brought a little too much friction.

Neither of us could make eye contact for a long moment. Breathe in, breathe out, I reminded myself. Think about baseball stats, or whatever. Isn’t that what you were supposed to do in a situation like this?

“I always knew,” I said, breaking the silence. “Or at least, I did deep down. I always looked too hard at other girls, my gaze lingering on their boobs or their ass. I tried to convince myself that I just wanted to look like them, but I wanted to fuck them.”

Scully laughed shortly. “When did you stop trying to convince yourself you were straight?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Sometime before I ditched my prom date to fuck a cheerleader, I guess.”

“Oh,” she choked in surprise. “But you like men too?”

At the moment, no chance. “Sure. I mean I’ve seen Tom Cruise.” And Fox Mulder, I added silently. But there was no comparison to the beauty sitting across from me.

“And you’ve fucked them?”

I never would again if that was the price to have Scully. “Yeah. Some of the most satisfying orgasms I’ve had were given to me by men.”

“And?” Her throaty voice sent shivers down my spine. Would she sound like that in the throes of passion?

“And what, Scully?” I wanted to hear her say it, even though I had a pretty good idea of what she meant.

“And your best orgasm?” she asked. Maybe tequila made her horny too.

“I’m still chasing it.” I smirked at her. “But currently the winner is a woman.”

“I’ve always wondered what it would be like with a woman.”

“Do you like oral, Scully?”

“Who doesn’t?”

Not me. I liked giving as much as receiving, and couldn’t help but sinfully imagine what Scully might taste like. __Fuck__. Fuck this tequila and the way I could smell her perfume, some musky sandalwood concoction that made me feel high. The only way to describe this limbo of unrequited love was a veritable hell on earth.

“Have you ever had five orgasms with a man before?” I studied Scully’s kitchen instead of her face, counting the apples in the fruit bowl instead of watching her for reaction.

“Five?!” The pressure of her hand on my upper arm made me turn back to her. “I’ve hardly ever made it to two.”

“Even by yourself?” Her gaze was magnetic, and once I caught it, I couldn’t look away. What would she look like during orgasm? Those intoxicating blue eyes would be black with lust, her thick pink lips would be parted, and, if I was lucky, she would be crying my name. If I hadn’t soaked through my panties before, this was the moment.

“I guess I just thought I was a two and done kinda gal,” she said, but she kept my gaze.

Some sort of insanity came over me in the moment. “Want to find out?”

“What?”

Well, there was no coming back from that. She didn’t seem thrilled, but she didn’t seem repulsed either. “I’m coming on to you, Dana,” I said.

“Me? Are you serious?” She looked down at the countertop in apparent embarrassment or disbelief.

“God, Dana. How could you not know? I’ve spent the last two years willing to kill for a chance at you.” My fingers reached out to brush her cool hair behind her ear. As I pulled away, I thought I saw her lean in to the touch.

“I’m not gay,” she said, but in a tone that suggested she was trying to convince herself, not me.

“We all have exceptions.”

All it took to kiss her was a lean forward. She met me halfway, her lips parted. For my part, I kept it chaste. That is, until she tugged at my bottom lip with her teeth. My mouth opened to allow her access, and she wasted no time in using it. I was drowning in the sensation of kissing her, in the feel of her skin against mine. Warmth beyond the tequila surrounded me in an eddying flow, and as I tasted her, I realized I was already addicted. From this moment on, I would chase this high as the peak of human existence.

She parted the kiss, her warm and humid breath washing across my tingling lips. My hand was on her cheek, but I had no memory of how it got there. My entire life before this moment had dissolved into grey dust when I felt the euphoria of her kiss. For a moment, we sat there, breathing each other’s breath, wondering who would speak. No one did.

Scully kissed me again, and I was bonded to her, heart and soul, forever. I tasted the tequila on her tongue, the lipstick on her lips. She melted me, made me part of her.

She pulled away again, and I was paralyzed. Gone was the version of me that took the upper hand in physical intimacy. Replacing her was this sparkling, floating cloud of ecstasy waiting for another glimpse at heaven.

Breathlessly, I spoke, hearing myself before knowing the words. “Too much tongue? Too wet?”

I felt—god, yes, __felt—__ her smile against me. “Just perfect.”

Despite being the recipient of my clumsy advances, Scully led me to the bedroom, my hand in hers. Perhaps she had finally realized the depth of my crush. She let me, star-struck, run my hands through her impossibly soft hair, down her back, to her hips. All of my fantasies of this moment faded to nothingness when facing the reality, and I wondered if my cocky promise of pleasure was premature.

Her work clothes had been shed at the door hours earlier, so my hands found only a soft cotton t-shirt and pants as their obstacles. Skin met skin at her lower back, where her shirt had ridden up an inch or two. Finding confidence again, my fingers slipped upward, writing words of love in the small of her back.

She gasped, and the sound made my knees weak. I kissed her jaw, her neck, feeling her hand entwine in my hair. My thumb traced up to brush over a nipple, and found it already pebbled in anticipation of the touch. No bra impeded the stimulation, and I felt a ghost of the cotton-against-breast sensation in my own skin.

Ragged breaths by my ear betrayed her unraveling stoicism. “You can take it off, if you want.”

Needing no further invitation, I snatched the shirt at the hem and lifted it over her head, revealing two gorgeous swells to my greedy hands. Her nipples were a softer shade than her lips but no less enticing, and my mouth fell to them before I had made the conscious decision. Dividing my attention between the two breasts, I laved and suckled until she stumbled back to sit on the bed. I fell to my knees between her legs, my own legs trembling from arousal.

My hands traced her abs, a reminder that our job required peak physical condition. The thought of Agent Scully, fearless, gun in hand, sent a surge straight to my clit. I groaned around her nipple before remembering to look up at her face.

Scully’s eyes were hooded as they watched me work. She bit her bottom lip, still swollen from our kisses, and I wondered if I could cum with no physical stimulation at all.

“Are you still okay?” I asked her, reluctantly breaking in my worship of her.

“You know what you’re doing,” she said. “I’m more than okay. You?”

“No,” I admitted, overwhelmed by her breathless voice and her blackened eyes. “I’ve never been wetter in my life.”

Her laugh filled the room. “It’s always nice to be wanted.” Her voice lowered to a whisper, as if she was afraid to speak the words aloud. “I’m wet too.”

My hands, on either side of her hips at the small of her waist, were so close to the waistband of her pants. So badly I wanted to see the proof of her words, but she had allowed me so much already. Instead, I pulled her head down to me to taste her sweet lips again.

From the drop in the pit of my stomach, I might have thought I was plunging over a hill on a rollercoaster instead of sitting with my knees planted on the ground. The kiss was sloppier this time, a sure sign that Scully hadn’t been exaggerating, and warmth spread from my lips to my fingers to my toes. She breathed around the kisses instead of breaking away, and the only image in my mind was my hand plunging past her waistband to feel for myself if her cunt was half as wet as mine.

The motion stopped, and my mind cleared. She spoke against my lips. “Aren’t you going to see for yourself?”

Oh, she shouldn’t have said that. Acting on their own accord, my hands shoved her back onto the bed and tore her pants from her waist. A chill settled in my belly as I realized she wore no panties. The musky, sweet scent of her intoxicated me; she smelled like honey wine, a hint of dried roses, and the indescribable scent that was unique to the aroused woman, so much the same and yet different for every individual. The smell instantly provoked a need, a madness, in anyone attracted to women, and it took all my strength not to split her legs wide and bury my face in her pussy.

I kissed her belly, her navel, the expanse of skin that spanned the short space between her navel and the thatch of red hair. If she felt anything like me, that’s where her need was pooling, hot and sweet and tingly. Her legs splayed to allow me between them, but I wondered if the move was involuntary or an invitation. My lips brushed her skin, unglazed porcelain, perfect and milky white. None of the freckles that dusted her face wandered this far down her form, and I wondered if this part of Dana Scully ever saw the sun.

Such a perfect angel lay before me and here I was corrupting her with my heathen desires. Logically, of course, I knew Scully was no virgin, but such immaculate beauty recalled divinity and defied corruption.

“Have you lost your nerve?” she teased. Ah, it was an invitation after all.

“Just enjoying the view.”

My mouth found the supple skin of her inner thigh, and she rewarded me with a contented sigh. Her skin tasted slightly of salt, and my mind went to our choice of liquor earlier. Now if only I had a lime. Playfully, I nipped at her, pleased when she squirmed towards me.

“Are you always such a tease?” she said, her voice strained.

“Impatient, aren’t you?”

I looked up from my position between her legs, making eye contact as my fingers toyed with her pubic hair. Her dark, hooded gaze dared me to go further, and the pad of my finger traced her slit from bottom to top. Slick wetness greeted me, and I parted her labia to hover near her clit. She threw her head back with a simultaneous groan and laugh.

Pulling myself back over her, I kissed her clavicle, my tongue swirling in the hollow of her neck. My thumb rubbed her clitoris lightly, feeling her body arch into me. A moan vibrated in her throat as I increased the pressure, moving my thumb in tight counter-clockwise circles.

“When you touch yourself, Dana, how do you do it?” I spoke into her neck as I continued with my hand, imagining the sensation of my breath across her wet skin. “In circles, back-and-forth?”

Her hands gripped my back, taking handfuls of my blouse. “Depends on the day,” she said, her voice husky. I shuddered, infatuated with the sound. “But I have a vibrator I’m particularly fond of.”

My eyes flitted up to her bedside table, wondering if the item in question was in the top drawer. I increased my efforts, determined to outperform the battery-powered lover. “I hope you’ll show me some time,” I said.

Her breathing shallowed by the second, and I knew I could bring her over the edge without much effort. Without stopping my thumb, I slipped a finger inside her. She moved her hips in a circle, and as additional wetness coated my finger, I took the liberty of inserting a second finger. Her vagina tightened around me, and I knew it wouldn’t be long.

I kissed the base of her jaw, my other hand tracing a circle around her nipple. Her breath caught in her throat, strangling a sound into a voiceless gasp. Rhythmic contractions signaled the beginning of her climax, and I pulled away to watch her lips part and her eyes widen as pleasure pulsed through her.

Grinning, I planted a trail of kisses down from her cheek to her inner thigh, watching the aftershocks spasm through her legs. My thumb fell to the side, exposing her swollen clitoris to my next efforts.

“One,” I said before my tongue became occupied with something else.

 

“How many was that?” I asked, finally ceasing all of my efforts. Scully was prostrate on the bed, trying desperately to catch her breath.

“I lost count. Eight or nine,” she managed, her voice raw. Each progressive orgasm had been louder and louder, and I was almost surprised her neighbors didn’t appear to complain.

Wiping my face on my sleeve, I hauled myself up to collapse on the bed next to her. My own cunt was absolutely throbbing, having been ignored in favor of making Scully’s first time with a woman memorable. More than that, I knew she may not be comfortable reciprocating, so I planned to masturbate the moment I could get away, even if it meant a shameless too-long trip to the bathroom a few minutes from now.

She stared at the ceiling, her red hair askew against the bedspread. Her breasts heaved with her chest as she fought to deepen her breaths. “Nine,” she said, apparently having been counting in her head. “Nine orgasms. I didn’t even know that was possible.”

I smiled, still enthralled that the whole room smelled like Scully because of my efforts and mine alone. “Not my record. My record is twelve. Given to myself by me, of course.”

Her laugh dissolved into a fit of giggles before ceasing abruptly. “Oh, and you haven’t even had one. How rude of me!” She rolled onto her side, looking at me. Her face was flushed, making her charming freckles harder to find.

“Not at all,” I said, “this was gift enough. I’d do it every night for the rest of my life if you let me.” And, god, would I ever! Even if she never reciprocated I would fuck this woman every opportunity she presented, if only to feel that feeling in the pit of my stomach, that warmth swelling in the depths of my heart.

“Don’t be silly,” she said, her hand falling on my belly as if she knew the tension that had built up there. “Although, I don’t know what I’m doing.”

I swallowed. Again, my mouth had gone dry. Her fingers slipped below the waistband of my pants, and I wondered if she would be alarmed at just how aroused I had become. “You’d be surprised.” My voice was throaty like hers now, from the anticipation of her touch. “You’ve been practicing your technique most of your life on yourself.”

Her hand plunged into my panties, and she gasped. “You’re very wet.”

I nodded, unable to muster my voice. Her fingers were so close I could feel their warmth on my clit.

“Sorry about my nails,” she said, her finger moving down to collect some of the wetness from my opening. She dragged it up to my clit, tracing around it with a feather touch.

Taking handfuls of her bedspread, I spread my legs to allow her better access. At some point, my eyes had closed. I opened them to see a naked Scully lounging on her side, hand down my pants, and I nearly fainted dead away.

“Don’t worry.” There was no voice in my words at all. “It won’t take much.”

The pad of her finger found my nub, and a jolt of pleasure shot through me like lightning. My pussy twitched, a sure sign of extreme arousal, and I bit my bottom lip hard. Carnal pleasure threatened to drown me, and my more romantic feelings. The biological drive to orgasm erased everything else from my mind.

She tapped my clit and my whole body twitched this time. A mischievous twinkle grew in her eye. “I can’t remember the last time I was with a guy who got this hard.”

Rhythmic thumping—my pulse—filled first my chest, then my ears. Her finger started teasing my clit in earnest, and I drew in a shuddering breath. Encouraged, she increased the pressure, sending me to the teetering edge.

“Did you leave a wet spot on my barstool?” she said. In my wildest fantasies, Scully wasn’t this prone to dirty talk, but I loved it. “If my legs weren’t so wobbly I might go and check.”

I whimpered, bucking my hips into her hand. A second longer or another question like that and I’d be in heaven.

Scully answered my hedonistic prayers. “Am I doing okay at this?” Her voice was earnest rather than teasing, but instead of answering, I came.

“Oh, fuck, Dana.” The words occurred simultaneously with the crest of the first wave, before the rising pleasure drowned me. I writhed under her hand as euphoria filled me up from head to toe. Pulses hit me again and again, and every gasping breath filled my nose with Scully. My whole soul filled with Scully, and such abject ecstasy seemed beyond the mortal plane.

When I remembered myself, she was looking at me, a shy smile on her face. “I guess I’ll take that as a yes.”

There was a new leader in the contest for best orgasm, and I somehow doubted she could be beat. That is, until she withdrew her hand from my pants, regarded her wet finger curiously, and then sucked it into her mouth. Her blue eyes bore into me as she sucked it clean, and, without thinking, I shoved my hand down to replace hers. A second orgasm crashed down on me in the same moment, and I wondered if my hand had even been necessary.

Her cheeks were bright red as she watched me. “I was curious what another woman might taste like,” she admitted, her voice barely audible in the silent room.

“And?” How could I hear anything over my own pounding heart?

She shrugged, the tip of her tongue poking out between her lips. “Better than semen.”

I laughed, too tired and sated to even bother removing my hand from my pants. The post-coital atmosphere made me wonder: did she expect me to stay or go? Had I filled the void of a one-night stand, or did she view this as I did, a more emotional experience?

“I would normally sleep in pajamas, but I’m not sure I can stand,” she said, crawling up towards the pillows. Deciding I’d rather be asked to stay than to go, I fought my unsteadiness and started to sit up. Her hand caught my shoulder. “Stay.”

A feeling rivaling my earlier orgasms washed over me, breaking through my façade as a goofy smile. “Thank goodness,” I said, joining her near the pillows. “I’m not sure I could’ve stood either!”

Scully started to drift to sleep almost the moment her head found a pillow. I reached over her to turn off her bedside lamp before collapsing beside her. Unabashedly, I stared at her face. Everything about this woman enchanted me, and there was no chance I’d miss a minute of whatever intimacy she allowed me.

“Seven,” she murmured, not opening her eyes.

“What?” Distracted as I was by her peaceful expression, the number seemed a non-sequitur.

“That’s how many I owe you,” she said, her voice thick with sleep. “Seven orgasms.”

I choked back a laugh, trying to assemble the words necessary to assuage her misplaced guilt.

She spoke again before I could. “Eight if you’re a stickler. I’m not sure that second one was my doing.”

“I assure you it was,” I said, the image of her licking my juices off her finger replaying in my head. An image as sinful as that would be masturbation fodder for the rest of my life.

“Mm.” She was nearly asleep now. “Seven…won’t…forget.”

My lips pressed together, a surge of affection mixing with a laugh in my throat. Sure she would be asleep by the time the words left my mouth, I whispered, “I love you, Dana Scully.”

I might’ve misinterpreted in the darkness, but I could’ve sworn I saw her smile.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this is a departure from my other works in some ways. (And not in others; I'm apparently obsessed with PWP in all forms..) Not sure what I'm gonna do with this, or if I'll even leave it up here. Though, I was long overdue for my first female/female smut scene! If you like this, or want to see more like it (maybe even with plot), lemme know. Thanks!


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